


Multi Player Game

by Corvus_Aconitum



Series: Beyond The Surface [1]
Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Captain of North Precinct is an idiot, Gen, Idiots in Love, M/M, Protective Nick, even Sean Renard has insecurities, everyone supporting and taking care of their Captain, introspective Renard, our boys pining, pre-slash Nick/ Sean, protective everone, station as a big family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-26 07:47:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17741825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corvus_Aconitum/pseuds/Corvus_Aconitum
Summary: Sean Renard is to receive an award for outstanding performance on the job. An honor in his book. Pity only, that an encounter with the Captain from North Precinct unearths insecurities that he thought he had long since buried. What the zauberbiest doesn't know: Cops of South Precinct are very protective of their Captain and don't take kindly to him being attacked, even though it's only a verbal attack.Outraged on Renard's behalf they do their best to show their Captain exactly what he means to them. Add to that the slowly growing feelings between Nick and the zauberbiest and you have one protective Grimm on your side.





	Multi Player Game

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Infinity2013](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Infinity2013/gifts), [Zwärg (Eremon)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eremon/gifts).



> Hey there,  
> I am currently working through stories that some of you lovely people have asked me to write. As such I have finally finished the Prequel to 'Seeing You'. And, please, bear with me for covering all those brilliant ideas you had may take me a while.  
> This is for Infinity2013 and Zwärg(Eremon), who both wanted to see 'protective Nick defending Sean' and 'protective Grimm Squad' (although this is more 'protective Cop-squad') in general.  
> I would say that this is something short but words once again got away with me, so here is another lengthy oneshot.  
> Enjoy!  
> By the way, I seem to have a thing for 'Captain of North Precinct bashing'.

 

Multi Player Game:  
   
Sean Renard dresses with meticulous care. It's not that his standards aren't usually high but today is a special occasion.  
  
Tails of his dress shirt are slipped into charcoal gray slacks, the cuffs adjusted and links done in. The fabric of his shirt is colored the barest hint of red and will be complemented by a deep red tie and matching handkerchief in the breast pocket of his suit jacket. He takes up the silken length of cloth, weaves it around his neck and then into a flawless Windsor knot. A last tug of adjustment and he's ready to face them all.  
  
_This is not a battle. You would do well to remember that. It isn't? In my estimation half of your life is a battle._  
  
The reasonable part of his mental voice sounds very much like Nick Burkhardt, which is most disconcerting, so rather than thinking too closely about it he lets his mind wander:  
  
Yes, oftentimes life is a battle. It's not necessarily a fact he dislikes, it's simply what he's used to. His past has groomed him to prevail over whatever challenge life throws at him, be that as the Ruler of Portland or Captain of PPD.  
  
And make no mistake, he enjoys a good challenge and he certainly enjoys the power that comes with his status as Prince and position within the Force. The intricate game of politics, establishing power, even bringing justice.  
  
Two sides of a coin, ruling his canton and serving the Police.  
  
While his doings in the wesen world are often tinged by darkness, he plays largely by the book in the human world. It's like enforcing two very different bodies of law – one archaic and backed by even older conventions, the other focusing on equality and the well–being of the individual. For each there are strategies to keep criminal elements in check. So while he may do dark deeds to keep the more violent wesen in line, he is adamant about defending and adhering to the law in the kehrseite world.  
  
Despite that it hasn't always been easy to meet demands of both worlds. Oftentimes lines have blurred, forcing him to circumvent human law to get those who slip through the cracks of their legal system. In the last 3 three years however – since a certain Grimm has come into his powers – his work has become both easier and more difficult.  
  
Nick Burkhardt, the Grimm with a Detective's mind and moral code. In many ways Renard is satisfied with how things have turned out. His canton is more stable. There's less fear among the community while less wesen criminals walk away scot–free.  
  
Nick is different, which is both good and inconvenient. He has his own mind and judges people for what they do instead of what form they have been born into. With that he takes away much of the fear that centuries of violence and bloodshed have instilled in people and he fights everyday to make a difference. This Grimm is no one's pawn and Sean respects him deeply for it, no matter that zauberbiest and Royal in him yearn to dominate and manipulate the frustrating and alluring creature who dares to oppose them.  
  
He shakes his head at this. Sometimes the man infuriates him. Nick is stubborn, sometimes to a fault, he won't be pushed around and makes that clear to everybody who tries to (Sean himself included). On the other hand he's loyal, protective and without a deceptive bone in his body. All this, especially his unbending will makes him one of the few people Sean trusts to have no hidden agenda. Nick has never viewed him as the means to gain power either, which is a new concept to the shrewd but also mistreated Bastard Prince. To Nick Burkhardt he is a human with flaws and imperfections just like anyone else. And this, he concludes with a mental huff, is curse and blessing at once.  
  
Taking up his coat he makes an effort to shift his thoughts away from a certain Detective and back to general matters and within his mind he remains stubbornly silent about why he has to work so hard to achieve this. He's very well on his way, thinks about the evening ahead, about a thousand possible scenarios and how to react to each of them, when the image of a man rises unbidden in his mind. He fights with claws and teeth.  
  
_Conversing with people, dinner, speeches.... Damn it, it's no use!!_  
  
He cannot deny the truth any longer:  
He feels drawn to this man. Those stormy eyes, once sparking with anger and telling of an uncompromising core, then alight with life and mischief. His compact, athletic build. His laughter, his voice, the way he looks when embarrassed, his very aura when the Grimm comes out to play. All this occupies his thoughts more often than he is comfortable with. It makes him grapple with control and that frustrates him to no end.  
  
But Nick isn't only that, a distraction. An element disturbing his well ordered life and shooting what he values and needs in order to survive: His cool distance from the world, his flawlessly working mind unhindered by emotions and attachment. Nick Burkhardt brings forth sides of himself that he hasn't known existed anymore.  
  
A specific evening comes to mind and at this point even his zauberbiest side concedes that it is fruitless to fight this particular distraction. He decides to let it run its course so that he may get it out of his system, loosing himself in the memory:  
  
In matters of perspective he has to mention that the past weeks at work have been hard, coming with a crushing work load and one too many gruesome case.  
  
Every one of his Officers and Detectives has been pushed nearly past their endurance and there's been only so much he could do to ease the strain. Nick and Hank have been no exemption, working the case of a murdered woman – single mother leaving behind two young children with no father or other relatives to take care of them.  
  
Sean has stepped out of his office late that night to find the bullpen all but empty and Nick slumped in his chair, legs stretched out before him, head hanging over the top of the backrest in an uncomfortable angle. Haggard lines and dark smudges under closed eyes have painted a vivid picture of too much work and too little rest.  
  
Thinking he might be asleep he has walked over and lightly nudged his shoulder.  
  
“Nick, are you still in there somewhere?”  
His question is posed in a soft murmur instead of a reprimand. After all his Detective hasn't so much as slacked off at work but rather stayed here until he couldn't keep alert any longer.  
  
Nick hasn't been sleeping but he's been tired all right. Groaning the Grimm has lifted his head, rubbed his hands over his face and tried to crane his neck to frown at his ungodly tall Captain.  
  
“Sir. Still in here... I think. Uuh, sorry...."  
He's been silent for all of five seconds before issuing another groan and muttering:  
“But honestly, if you want to do a good deed, take Hank's chair and sit the hell down. You're too damn tall for anyone's good and getting a worse crick in my neck won't help me unraveling this damn mystery.... Or should I say misery?”  
  
Sean has allowed himself a rare smirk before following Nick's suggestion and taking a seat in his partner's vacated chair.  
  
“Okay, I'm sitting. Now where's Hank? Normally you two are inseparable enough for rumors of conjoined twins making the rounds.”  
  
The Grimm glowers, effect destroyed by the way he slouches over his desk with his chin propped up on his hand.  
  
“Funny.”  
  
Sean hadn't known that Nick could do such a good impression of his own deadpan drawl. Leaning back in the unfamiliar chair he steeples his hands on the tabletop and raises an eyebrow, demanding a more detailed answer without so much as a word. Nick is well trained in that regard or – and that admission is so much harder – he just knows him well. With a huff he straightens up and focuses on his Captain.  
  
“Hank would have been here but his goddaughter Carly has wound up in hospital and he was needed there. Her father had called and well… we were past hours of our normal shift so....” Trails off as if he fears a reprimand for Hank leaving work 'early'.  
  
“Don't worry. I'm not about to call your partner out on going home before dawn. I'm well aware of you all doing overtime and I appreciate it.”  
  
“Thanks… and sorry. I didn't mean to sound offensive. It's just that I would like to report any progress in our case but there really isn't any and at this point my brain feels like it's got one convolution too many.”  
  
The Grimm rubs his hands over his face again, tired, frustrated and emanating a near palpable air of desolation. Sean knows that cases like these tend to affect his Detective badly. He makes it his personal duty to make things right and that the victim has been wesen just makes him try harder.  
  
“Nick, I respect your sense of commitment but I don't want to see you collapsing either. If I knew you would rest I would send you home right now but I know you wouldn't sleep anyway, so let's make a deal: Why don't you tell me what you have and what's getting your brain in knots and I see if I can add a fresh perspective. Maybe that will do the trick.”  
  
It really isn't a suggestion, it's this way or none at all. The Grimm knows it well and appreciates it all the same.  
  
The way he has looked at him – surprised, grateful and just a bit fuzzy from working too much – is still vivid in his mind and has stirred something in him that he pushes away as too dangerous to touch upon just like earlier.  
  
Nick has launched into a summary of all they've already gathered – tired look replaced by the burning need to solve the case – and together they have poured over mounts of evidence, lab reports and time tables. For a few hours they haven't been superior and subordinate but two fellow cops hellbent on bringing justice to two young children who have lost their mother to the cruelty of mankind.  
  
At the start of another day they had uncovered the one crucial connection that would send a murderer to prison for a long time.  
  
Sean has send his Grimm home after that but before Nick has slipped out of the bullpen he has turned and smiled at him in a way that's made all of his face light up and tiredness vanish for an instant. In the privacy of the empty main office the zauberbiest has found a smile of his own tug at the corners of his mouth. Nick has also thanked him in words but in Sean's book – wherever that spark of sentimentalism has come from – that genuine smile has been all thanks needed.  
  
No matter how distanced he may be on a daily basis, Sean has enjoyed their night of easy camaraderie.  
  
Of course, he tries supporting all of his subordinates to an extend. Not with warm words or lavish praise as some would have. No, but while they've all worked their ass off, he hasn't been one to twiddle his thumbs either. And that, well that brings him right back to the reason for his careful assembly of evening attire tonight:  
  
Two days ago Commander Sievers has personally called to tell him that he is to receive the 'Special Services'–Award of the Police Bureau. He's felt honored to say the least and not even iron control and outward cool could have stopped his heart from beating wildly in his chest. The award is unique in a way that the recipient is chosen by communal vote of every member of PPD, not some committee of people who can be swayed by bribes or owed favors. This little fact is what makes it one of the highest honors – at least among cops worth their salt.  
  
Usually it's awarded to those going above and beyond what job description demands of them in their quest to protect others. That he of all people has been nominated this year has made even the eloquent Prince come up short for words. Commander Sievers has noticed – of course he has, the perceptive old coot – and chuckled quietly into his end of the line. To shock the suave, practically unshakable Captain into silence is something he's enjoyed greatly.  
  
“You see, Sean, it isn't normal practice to tell you this but then again this year's election hasn't been either.”  
  
“Commander, what do you mean?”  
Sean is instantly on his guard.  
  
_Is Sievers accusing me of bribery in the same breath as telling me that I have been chosen?_  
  
“I mean that the result of this year's election has been unprecedented.”  
  
If unholy glee can be projected via line, this is how it's done! Sievers makes him stew just for his own evil enjoyment! Sean hates and admires him for it and he cannot for the life of him decide which feeling wins out. Oh well, seeing that this is the man who has taught him a great deal of what he knows today – and how to make others loose their cool has been one of them – he should probably forgive him. Anyway, back to matters at hand:  
  
Pride normally forbids to demand further information but Sean has learned the hard way that missing important facts can hurt so much more than stung pride. Sometimes, he knows, it can even end deadly.  
  
“In what way? Was participation particularly low this year?”  
  
Without meaning to the barest hint of bitterness has slipped into Renard's tone. It would be just his luck that the one year that vote has fallen on him, it's been due to some pesky twist of fate.  
  
“On the contrary, Captain. You might be pleased to hear that members of South Precinct have almost unanimously voted for you.”  
  
“Almost unanimously? But I haven't done anything to....”  
  
It's out before he can stop himself. He wants to bite his tongue off for being such a fool and showing weakness while the zauberbiest wants to growl in frustration. He represses both urges but it's a near thing.  
  
_Damn, where has my self–control fled to?_  
  
“You mean you haven't done anything to deserve it?”  
  
Not that Sean would have put it that way – warranted sounds so much more dignified than deserved – but yes, that's the crux of the matter. He hasn't deigned that with an answer, of course, but then again that hasn’t been necessary.  
  
“Don't sell yourself cheaply, Captain. That isn't your way on a normal day, so don't start now. And let there be no doubt that you deserve this honor.”  
  
The last bit takes the bite out of the first part for it's heartfelt and colored with a certain note of pride. Either way Sean is well aware that he can be an arrogant, unfeeling bastard sometimes and Sievers has known him since his rookie days. He has always respected him for his clever mind and excellent work despite his cool demeanor, which hasn't ingratiated him to a great many people.  
  
So maybe, just maybe that dig has been justified.  
  
Not knowing what to say he has given a sparsely eloquent 'Hmm.‘.  
  
Another thing that he usually avoids.  
  
_Honestly, what is the matter with me today?_  
  
>>>  
  
After the call has ended he has stared dumbly at his phone. He must have been in shock because on a normal day he would never stare dumbly at anything, let alone a bloody phone. He's really out of sorts but at least this time it's happened in the solitude of his own home instead of the presence of a high ranking member of the Bureau.  
  
The evening ahead fills him with a curious mix of nervous anticipation and thrill. It's less the fear of making a fool of himself in public rather than being clueless about his subordinates' motives in all this. None of them has mentioned anything and no one has treated him differently. As mentioned earlier, the past weeks have been tough for them all and he tries making their work a little easier but in his book that's no warrant for an award like this.  
  
His mind leaps to the implications and disturbance coils in his gut like a snake.  
  
_If I haven't done anything to deserve this, why have they done it then? Is there some hidden agenda I haven't uncovered yet? Is there a string attached?_  
  
Sean Renard is suspicious by nature, so the doubts come all too easily. On the other hand he knows his men well and has worked with some of them for many years. Wu and Franco come to mind, Hank and Nick – the latter ranging right there with them despite being one of the youngest Detectives in the station.  
  
_None of them has betrayed me so far nor has any of them given me reason to doubt their loyalty and sincerity. Should I really accuse them of treachery even if only in my own mind? Do I have any right to do so or even suspect an ulterior motive?  
_  
He thinks back to the past weeks. How they have all worked together – oftentimes 'til late at night. How they have come to him for advice and guidance and some even to talk about how a case has affected them emotionally. Especially the last part isn't his forte. Listening, yes. Showing emotion in face of their worries, difficult as hell for a reclusive, not to say emotionally stunted man like him.  
  
He has tried his best anyway and has the vague hope that they know him well enough to read between the lines. And apparently they have, haven't they? What other reason ('What reason at all?' says an insecure, quickly denied part of himself) should they have for nominating him?  
  
What he still doesn't understand is how he could have gotten enough votes to be chosen because, let's face it, even if every single member of his Precinct has voted for him, there are still two others to take into account. Have his subordinates gone round and advertised for him? The thought seems ridiculous.  
  
There's nothing for it, though. Whatever the reason, he is expected at City Hall and as it is he will need to hurry to get there on time.  
  
>>>  
  
Nick is standing in front of his mirror redoing the knot of his tie the third time in a row, never quite satisfied with the result. He's never been the tie kind of guy and is eternally grateful that Renard doesn't expect his Detectives to wear formal attire to work.  
  
_Renard._

 

Today is the Captain's special day and he wants to look good, which is ridiculous but oh so true. The reason for that brings him right back to the object of his thoughts.  
  
_Renard is....  
Imposing, charismatic, a born leader.  
Infuriating, shady, difficult to see through and even more difficult to reach out to.  
He is often aloof, never trying to be your friend...._  
_He is the man, who has pulled an all nighter with me when he didn't have to._

  
... Frankly, he is the man Nick has fallen in love with.  
  
Wrapped in a conscious thought it sounds even more ridiculous but it's true all the same. Just like taking extra care with his evening attire or trying to get to City Hall early to watch the man's entrance and just like going from cop to cop and persuading them that Sean Renard deserves to be nominated for this award.  
  
Why? Because despite never being outright warm with any of them or trying to incur their sympathy, at the end of the day he has their back and is fiercely loyal to each of them!  
  
Nick may be quick to deny having fallen in love with him but of this every word is true – no denial, no hiding it.  
  
_Alright Nick, get a grip. It's not like Renard would ever love you back or have any feelings for you other than frustration over not being able to manipulate you as a Grimm. And anyway, it's a fact that he infuriates you just the same. His work as our Captain none withstanding, you never know when there's an underhanded scheme or hidden agenda. Think of the key or of ordering Aunt Marie's death because she's been a threat in his eyes.  
…A threat to very real people... innocent people.... No! He could have found another way!  
…And he could also have let you rot in a coffin on your way to Vienna but he hasn't. He has worked together with your friends, whom he hasn't trusted, against his own brother and family…._  
  
The Grimm heaves a sigh. This won't get him anywhere. Either he accepts that his past misdeeds do in fact belong to the past and that Renard has changed in many ways or he remains angry and bitter. Nick doesn't like to be bitter. It's just not his way of seeing the world. Despite his profession (both of them, really) he still believes in the good in people. He hasn't been known for keeping grudges and he won't start now!  
  
That however leaves only one other possibility:  
He thinks back to that night. To shirt sleeves rolled up past elbows in a concession to late night work, to short cropped curls in as much of a disarray as he's ever likely to see them, tousled by hands pushing through them in frustration. Suddenly the ever distant superior has been replaced by the fiercely dedicated cop, by feelings, shared problems and aims. Renard has sighed, has yawned, has smiled a few times even! Nick has both been distracted and entirely focused.  
  
The Grimm has fallen in love just a bit deeper that night. Or maybe it's just that seeing this new, more human side of him has finally shifted his feelings from being an unattainable fantasy to being a possible reality.  
  
Whatever the reason, whatever the outcome, tonight is Captain Renard's special moment and he will be there to show his support like his colleagues.  
  
>>>  
  
On the car ride Sean strengthens his resolve: He will shut up his survival driven mind for an evening and take at face value what these men and women want to tell him. Others would laugh at the seeming insignificance of his problem but Sean has always been different in that regard. He has learned from painful past experience. From early on he has known that apart from a scarily small number of people you cannot trust anyone. He has learned that you aren't valued if you aren't of value to someone and that affection may just be a mask to hide treachery and malevolence behind.  
  
With a shudder he thinks of his brother and stepmother. He has trusted them once upon a time. Oh how cruelly they have betrayed and hurt him. They've made him – a small boy of four – believe that they were a family only to shatter him and laugh in his face once they've delivered the final blow.  
  
The years have hardened him and made him value self–sufficiency above all else. As an adult he has gained power and learned to wield it in a thousand different ways to protect himself from harm.  
  
It remains a fact – for good or for bad – that his past has made him the man he is today: Stoic in face of whatever comes his way, shrewd to a degree of cold calculation and sophisticated enough to hide that in reality he has no clue about positive human relationships.  
  
And here we are again, getting right back to a certain stormy eyed Grimm with too much stubbornness and loyalty for his own good.  
  
What Nick has done that night – and yes, he really cannot get the damn incident out of his mind – ignoring his status and asking him for help just like he would Hank or that blutbad – teasing him even – has shaken him to the core. Not because he fears a breach of professional boundaries or a lack of respect but because deep inside him a small boy of four has wondered if this is what it's like to be appreciated for your own sake?  
  
Sean shakes his head to get rid of these thoughts but finds himself unable to. Most frustrating. He is used to getting what he wants and achieving whatever aim he sets himself.  
  
_So why do my thoughts invariably turn back to my Detective?_  
  
The answer comes easier than Sean would have expected: _Because this has been building within you for some time. Because Nick has shown you acceptance despite your differences and your various attempts at manipulating him._  
  
He has long fought the sentiment but it remains true that in the young Grimm’s presence he can show more of himself than with anyone else. Even when he has revealed his zauberbiest, Nick has shown anger in face of his actions instead of revulsion over what he’s hidden from the world almost all his life. It is liberating and frightening at once….  
  
And it’s not to say that his shrewd mind and wesen side won't voice their doubts from time to time....  
But it's a start.  
  
Nick Burkhardt has seen more of him than anyone apart from his own mother and he's still here, working with him 'til the wee hours of morning, grumbling about his height as if he were a friend instead of his superior or the royal Bastard.  
  
Nick brings out what Sean jealously hides from the world: Humanity and a heart well able to feel. All without force and deceit, just by giving him the freedom to be who he chooses to be and even by taking him to task when his schemes take a darker turn.  
  
>>>  
  
They are standing in an out of the way corner talking quietly and grudgingly having a glass of champagne for lack of a much preferred bottle of microbrew when the Captain finally enters the event room.  
  
And what an entrance it is! Whereas other men and women try to attract attention, Sean Renard simply does. His presence fills space, drawing gazes from those assembled when he couldn’t care less. Not that he doesn’t have an ego to match his charisma. Nick may be in love with a man he cannot have but he isn’t stupid or naive. He tries temping down a jealous streak at seeing others track his progress as well but a twinge of it remains. He needs an outlet. He needs to say it. Hank is safe ground. He 'knows' even if so far Nick has vehemently denied it and still does upon being questioned.  
  
“Oh, wow! Our Captain looks good tonight!”  
  
Hank throws him a curious (more like knowing) sideways glance.  
  
“Nick, two questions: First, has this been the reason why you've wanted to come here extra early?... No, on second thought, don't answer that. I don’t want to know. Anyway, no offense, but do you think that's what one guy should say about another?”  
  
Nick rolls his eyes. He doesn’t deign the first question with an answer because, hey, he is still denying the elephant in the room. The second however…?  
  
“This isn't a schoolboy crush, Hank. It's a 'one guy appreciates another guy's attire' kind of thing."  
  
Hank's grin is large and says that he doesn’t believe one word.  
“Uhuh. So for the sake of neutral appreciation of another guy's attire: Yes, our Captain looks dashing tonight. Satisfied now?”  
  
“Yes, very. Thanks for your support.”  
  
>>>  
  
Renard approaches them after greeting a few others and even returns their playful toast of champagne flutes, amusement simmering in his expression.  
  
“Hank. Nick.”  
  
The Grimm admits to himself that the Captain’s deep and velvety voice is doing all kind of things to him and that he has to work hard to keep the lid on them. He schools his expression into something neutral. He may not as good as Renard but he knows how to keep hidden what he doesn’t want to be seen.  
  
“Captain”, they say in unison, grinning like mischievous schoolboys. Renard just raises an eyebrow at their antics but this time the infamous smirk makes an appearance. It is – if various sources are to be believed – the only concession their Captain makes to openly showing positive feelings.  
  
“Enjoying the evening so far, gentlemen?”  
Hank's grin becomes outright smug.  
“Of course, Sir. There's free food, drink and music and one of our own will be honored tonight. It's safe to say we're enjoying the show.”  
  
The zauberbiest inclines his head both at his reasoning and at the indirect compliment. And he does appreciate it. Although he does not express it in so much as words, they are familiar enough with each other to know anyway.

  
“Sean. Just the man I was looking for!”  
It's Commander Sievers coming at them from a distance. Renard’s nearly indiscernible eye roll while his back is still turned speaks volumes to the two Detectives.  
  
“If you need rescuing, Sir, just give us a wink. We'll be right here to stage whatever distraction necessary”, Nick murmurs under his breath right before Sievers moves into hearing range. Sean answers with another barely there half–smile before turning and greeting his own superior in a perfectly polite manner. The two partners watch Commander and Captain move away after Sievers has acknowledged their presence with a curt nod. Their Commander is no fool but he can be a mite bit tedious to be around. How fortunate then, that his company is well out of league for two ordinary Detectives and entertaining him is left to someone as capable as their esteemed Captain.  
  
>>>  
  
They don't stay lonely for long as Wu makes his way over to them. His Cheshire Cat smirk tells them he has news to share. Good news. Good for whom remains to be seen but juicy all the same.  
  
“Good evening, gents.”  
“Evening, Wu.”  
They speak in unison once again, sharing an eye roll over doing that twice in one evening.  
  
“Anything I should know, guys? If congratulations were in order you could have told good ol' Wu.”  
“Very funny. Contrary to popular belief we are not a married couple."  
"Or conjoined twins."  
“Pity. Both the marriage and conjoined twins. You would have made a great couple either way. And you would have had my support, you know?”  
  
He wags his eyebrows suggestively but at their twin glares he looks the picture of innocence.  
  
"Why don't you just share what you've been dying to share with us ever since you've made your way here.”  
“Well… officially no one knows particulars of the election, so of course everyone in the Force knows….“  
All three share a knowing grin.  
"Of course.“  
Nothing is quite like a bunch of cops together to get the gossip monger going.  
"So, what morsel of officially unknown information has the rumor mill going this time?“  
"My resources say that our esteemed Captain Robertson is mightily miffed that Renard was nominated for his work as Captain while he hasn't gotten a single vote in his favor... not even from his own people.”  
  
“Oh that poor man. I really don't know how anyone could _not_ vote for him.”  
Sarcasm is thick in Nick’s tone and his fake gagging noises at the end draw snickers from his colleagues.  
  
„Tell me if I'm wrong but do I detect a note of irony there? Really Detective, Captain Robertson is a shining and esteemed member of Portland’s society”, Wu says patronizing, evil grin belying his tone and adding its own sarcastic note.  
  
„Exactly. I’ve always wondered how he does not have a halo of light around him considering his ’better than thou’ attitude”, Hank adds, the other two grinning into their glasses.  
„To shining members of our society then.“  
They toast to that.  
  
>>>  
  
“Uuh, speaking of the devil. Our charming and most admired Captain of neighboring Precinct has just entered the room.” Nick heaves a theatrical sigh.  
  
“It's been such a nice evening so far“, he grouses with a glower in direction of the double doors.  
  
It's normally not this way to show dislike this openly but in case of Robertson they know that he has good reason to. The other man is a drangzorn and he makes no secret of despising Nick because of his Grimm heritage or Renard for being a hybrid and the Ruler of wesen Portland.  
  
The man of their not so positive thoughts stalks right over to Renard, who is moving between different parties and groups with a kind of social ease that the trio can only admire. In comparison to their own superior Captain Robertson appears laughable, his 'decisive' march more a bull on a warpath than anything else. Where Renard is well built and imposing, Robertson is short, stocky and with an aura of passive aggression going out from him. While their own superior can be shrewd, secretive and a little scary – applying all three skills liberally to keep his people and the Precinct out of trouble – Robertson is neither particularly fearsome nor does he show concern for anyone than himself.  
  
Hah, okay, Renard  _showing_  concern may be too strong a word. He does  _feel_  it on occasion, though. Of that the three cops are almost sure. What can they say? Guessing at the workings of the zauberbiest's mind is not an easy feat.  
  
Of course Robertson has made it his aim to lick the Commander's and the Chief's boots before ever deigning to 'grace' any of them with his presence. Stomping over to Renard like he does he already seems to be out for trouble. They hide matching smirks behind champagne glasses at seeing their superior put on that wintry smile, which expresses pity and dislike while still counting as totally polite.  
  
“He's a master at this.” It's Hank and in his deep baritone swings a good portion of admiration. Nick chuckles.  
  
“Oh yes. That and making even the most weathered men and women of power wet their pants – all while staying perfectly polite of course. Sometimes without words even! You know his piercing stare... or the glare of unholy fury where the rest of his face is completely devoid of emotion and you just know that you are in deep trouble.”  
  
There's too much glee by far but Drew isn't any better, really. He heaves a theatrical sigh while dabbing at his eyes with an imaginary handkerchief.  
  
“They grow up so quickly. One moment you change their nappy and the next they are Captain and trash other Captains hide soundly.”  
  
He ends that stage worthy performance with a mighty sniff at which they all dissolve into surreptitious chuckles. Wouldn't do to be found laughing too loudly at such a high class event, would it?  
  
“Don't let Renard hear about the nappy part or he might just show you that he can trash your scrawny hide just as well as he can crush Robertson's arrogance.” Hank is grinning and shaking his head. Meanwhile Nick seems distracted and the reason becomes clear a moment later:  
“Uh oh. Robertson already looks pissed. Give me a moment and I'll try if I cannot tune in to their conversation.”  
“Getting out the bat gear again?”  
Cocking his head slightly and smiling like he's in on a secret nobody else knows is Nick's only answer. Yep, safe to say that their friend uses his Grimm senses again.  
  
>>>  
  
When Captain Robertson approaches him with what he terms a 'strong walk of someone being in charge' but that in reality looks just this side of forced, Sean schools his features into cool neutrality. It's no secret among cops that the Captains of North and South Precinct dislike each other but that doesn't mean they will broadcast it for all to witness. As a matter of fact, over the years they have cultivated a way of conversing with each other that appears polite to the public while leaving no doubt about their mutual condescension for each other. They will smile thinly and nod, they'll stand close to each other in fake unison when in truth they exchange barbs.  
  
Although zauberbiester are well known for holding grudges, Renard is not in the habit of disliking people on sight. Well, Robertson is an exemption to that rule, or rather he has acted in ways to deserve each and any loathing Sean may dish up. He's an arrogant fool, a blustering idiot and as dedicated to his job as a snail is to breaking a speed record. He makes no secret of holding the rank of Captain for the single purpose of climbing the ladder as quickly as possible and for Sean that's tantamount to mocking any of those who take the service in the Police seriously.  
  
“Sean.”  
“Frank.”

The zauberbiest takes a sip of his wine. He needs to get rid of the bad aftertaste that name leaves on his tongue.  
“How are you faring on your lonely spot on the top?”  
Renard just shows a cold smile. The slight at his status as exiled Prince is taken with barely a twitch and responded to in kind: “Good, good. How's the wife?"  
“Divorced and you know it.”  
Mirthless laughter that sounds perfectly cordial to an unassuming witness.  
“Oh, she _is_ doing well then. For a moment I was worried.”  
  
Robertson may be able to repress his growl but not the flicker of a woge. Renard smiles thinly. The other man is a drangzorn and true to his nature his temper is as volatile as they come.  
  
“Pah. You may think yourself clever and superior to me, but you won't always be the one wielding all the power. The Chief of Police listens to me not you and one day that will come to bite you where it hurts.”  
  
Sean's eyes glitter dangerously as he peers at the other man over the rim of his wine glass.  
“Do I detect a threat there, Frank? I would be most disconcerted if I did.”  
  
The drangzorn swallows thickly while ostensibly hating himself for revealing that much.  
“Of course not. We are colleagues. I'm just saying that lineage isn't everything. It's just well meant advice. Your royal status and money might have gained you a position as Captain as but it won't be enough to get what you want for the indeterminable future. You have less support than you think and all I'm saying is that I won't sit back idly while you rest on your laurels.”  
  
Sean abandons his mask of absolute cool in favor of letting a trace of his loathing shine through. Going by how Robertson gnashes his teeth, the message has been received.   
  
“Resting on my laurels? Nice try. Let me tell you something: My status in _our_ world has nothing to do with what rank I hold on the Force. Contrary to you I've licked no one's boots to get where I am today and do you know, how I know this?”  
  
He pauses as if this wasn't a rhetorical question before continuing as if he couldn't care less about an answer anyway:  
“I know that because through the support of the very men and women, who do the hard part of our job, I have been elected to receive an award for outstanding performance. Something that – if I remember correctly – you have never been named for.”  
  
There's a core of steel in Sean Renard's piercing stare that has the other man cowering in fear, no matter how subtle a movement has given him away. The Prince smiles coldly. He's not in a charitable mood right now. This isn't only about stung pride or getting one over his nemesis. No, this is about Frank Robertson, that irritating specimen, insulting each and every Officer on the Force taking the job serious and doing their best every day!  
  
Sean is aware of the very moment when fear morphs into loathing and that into the desire to hurt him. The drangzorn reigns himself in, reestablishes his mask of smug superiority as he drawls triumphantly: “Sweet. I do think a lot of unsavory things about you but I wouldn't have taken you to be a naive fool. Do you really believe for even one moment that those from your Precinct have elected you because they _look up to you_  or even _like_ you? You are a tool to them and nothing else. They want to rise in rank just like all of them. You are not rewarded for doing well in your job, you are rewarded to incur favor. You aren't some kind of well respected role model, you are just another cog in the great scheme of things and not even your status as  _Bastard_  Prince will ever deceive anyone about the fact that you're mediocre at best!”  
  
Over the course of his little speech the cool drawl has become an angry hiss. While he may look bored or at most put out at being spoken to in such a way, he seethes on the inside! It isn't because Robertson has called him a bastard – he's heard that one too many times in his life for there to be any sting at all. It's that he has managed to rub salt into the very wounds that fester inside the zauberbiest all his life:  
  
Not being good enough. Being lonely and just the means to an end.... A man tolerated instead of being well liked.  
  
Sean Renard doesn't have many friends. The respect and support of his Officers and Detectives therefor means a lot to him. To undermine his belief that at least among his men he's respected and appreciated rattles him more than he would ever admit.  
  
He cloaks himself in cold indifference, his next words an icy drawl: “This once again shows me why you will never rise as far as you aspire and why clearing rates of North Precinct are as abysmal as they are. If you lead your own men under the assumption that one of us would even be able to without their support, then I know why you have to watch your back every time you step into a dark alley. Not a comforting feeling to wonder when one of them will betray you in order to climb the ladder, is it?”  
  
With that he turns on his heel and leaves the other man standing alone. While doubts will not be silenced no matter how ruthlessly he tries squashing them down, he isn't aware that across the room a certain Grimm has become so angry on his behalf that he has snapped his champagne flute cleanly in half.  
  
When he looks over to where his two Detectives have stood before but are nowhere in sight now, it saddles him and deep in his heart it cements all those doubts that have been sown. He cannot know that Hank, Nick and Wu have been forced to make an urgent trip to the restrooms because Nick has cut himself and they need to patch him up before he gets blood on his suit. He cannot know either that said Detectives are already thinking up a plan to show him exactly how important he is to them.  
  
>>>  
  
"Nick, whatever you do, don't growl! Frankly, you look just a step away from that", Hank whispers, some worry shining through.  
  
Oh, Nick doesn't growl. No, at the end of the nice little speech starting the with the word 'sweet' Nick snaps his champagne flute cleanly in half, fragile stem of the glass no match for a Grimm's ire!  
  
"Woah, Nick! What's the matter?"  
  
He ignores the urgent whisper in favor of catching the upper half of the glass with one swift movement before it can smash on the ground and attract attention. Both Hank and Wu think that no matter how genial and laid back their friend usually is, when focused and angry like this he can be scary as shit.  
Nick himself acts mostly on autopilot, mind caught up in a turmoil of emotions.  
  
_How dare he?! That son of a bitch! To insinuate that they don't care and to take all joy out of receiving an award like this...._  
  
"Nick,  _Nick_! Hey, you're bleeding. Look, your index finger."  
  
The Grimm throws a glance at his finger like it is a bothersome insect. He doesn't look like someone with a bleeding cut either but rather like someone who wants to take the sharp tipped stem of his glass and push it deeply into a certain drangzorn's chest.  
  
"Okay, hotshot. You're starting to drip. Blood splatters belong to crime scenes, not City Hall, you know? We should patch you up before you make a mess."  
  
Nick gives an uncaring shrug, still glaring in direction of Robertson.  
  
"By all means, I need to talk to the two of you in private anyway. You'll want to hear this."  
  
While Hank produces a clean hanky from somewhere and wraps it around the cut, Drew already ushers them to the men's room, snagging a first aid kit on the way in true ninja stealth fashion.  
  
>>>  
  
“Captain Robertson.“  
“Detective Burkhardt.“ Going by his rancid tone it's clear he would rather have spat 'the Grimm'. Nick isn’t fazed, smiling pleasantly and the picture of innocence.  
“Sir, this is getting tiresome. there’s really no reason to be afraid of me“, he says it quietly and without a trace of threat. Robertson scoffs, lip curling in disdain.  
“Pah! As if I would be afraid of you. I just don’t relish talking to a Grimm.“  
  
His tone is hushed but Nick marvels at how much aggression he can still convey through his clenched teeth. That same ire lights up his eyes only to be replaced by condescension when he looks him up and down now.  
“And you wouldn’t dare, anyway, would you? I am a Police Captain after all.“  
  
Nick feels the urge to throw up in face of the other man’s arrogance – favorable right on the man's polished shoes.   
“It’s more a case of 'wouldn’t want to‘, although the way you act makes strangling you come to mind.“  
  
The drangzorn shows the flicker of a woge as he grunts and growls. Frankly, he looks a step away from attacking him.  
“You little...“, He visibly reigns himself in: “Be careful, guard dog, your Master may not be pleased if you walk around attacking people.“  
  
Nick crosses his arms in front of his chest, gaze becoming cold and hard.  
“You seem to be operating under a lot of misconceptions, Sir. If you refer to Captain Renard – or should I say the Prince – he is my Commanding Officer and not my Master. I am acting solely in capacity of a Detective and seeing the way you already woge in anger, maybe  _you_ should start curbing your violent urges and start acting in a way becoming of a Captain!“  
  
His eyes have taken on the color of flint and are sparking with indignation. Robertson makes to say something – and it won’t be nice either – but Nick cuts him off with a single swiping gesture of his hand.  
“You are right in one thing, though. I may not be at the Prince’s beck and call but I do guard his back least someone stabs him from behind! I don’t know about your Precinct but here we have each others back.“  
  
When Robertson only laughs coldly, Nick shoots him a glare. He manages to keep his cool but the other man’s reaction rattles him.  
  
“Sweet.“ There's that trice cursed word again. From Robertson’s lips it sound like the epitome of an insult. Like he’s stupid and a little slow. Nick very nearly gnashes his teeth but the Captain from North Precinct isn’t finished yet: “Do you really believe that Sean Renard will have your back? That’s almost pitiable. Even if for one moment we assume that he isn’t the self–serving bastard he is, don't you remember his _other_ side?“  
  
By the way Robertson woges and takes a nearly imperceptible step back he must have seen a trace of what Nick feels right now. This time it’s the Grimm taking his time to find back to control. It’s just been a moment and not as ostensible as Robertson’s outburst earlier but it still angers him. What does Renard always tell them: Keep in control. Don’t let them achieve power over your emotions.  
  
“Oh, yes, I do. Appearances may sometimes deceive but it’s not always the usual suspects doing bad deeds. And don't believe that I don't know that  _you_ like judging people by their cover while merrily accusing other’s of doing so! You know what? Not all of us follow in the violent footsteps of their ancestors. And wether you can imagine it or not, he would protect and support every single one of us, which is the reason why he is receiving an award tonight while you are not. Oh, and before you ask, that brings me right back to the initial reason for seeking this pleasant conversation with you.“  
  
Sarcasm in Nick’s last words couldn’t have been laid on thicker but at least it seems to have taken the wind out of the man’s sails. He crosses meaty arms in front of his chest and, glowering down on him, grounds out: “And what might that be, Detective Burkhardt?“  
  
They are back to false pleasantness. Good. Now comes the fun part.  
“Well you see, as mentioned our Captain gets an award tonight and I have volunteered to do the laudatory speech.“  
  
Robertson laughs out loud and it’s not a pleasant one either. He looks so smug that Nick wants to punch him but he keeps up his pleasant smile because – what do they say – revenge is a dish best served cold. It’s clear that the drangzorn thinks he has him all figured out now and Nick does nothing to discourage his belief.  
  
“Licking boots to climb up the ladder now?“  
“No need to. In South Precinct we are estimated by our work performance and not by how well we are brown nosing but thanks for your concern. Now back to the matter at hand. It was a rather spontaneous decision and now I'm a bit short on what to say, so for inspiration I thought I would ask you: What qualities do you think make a good Captain?“  
Nick knows he has him when his gaze grows distant with visions of greatness, of the perfect Captain, in other words: Himself. He takes out his notebook and pen, cocking his head slightly to signal he's listening.  
A derisive snort.  
"You've come with a notebook?"  
"I've come with a purpose. So...?" He puts on his best honestly eager expression, pen poised over paper. It works. Looking like your next best rookie officer on his first door–to–door and he is viewed with pitying indulgence rather than as a threat.  
  
"Well...", he puffs out his chest and the real act for Nick is to keep in a huff of derisive laughter.  
"Well, Burkhardt, first of all a Captain needs to command his men with an iron hand."  
Nick jots that down and gives a neutral 'Hmhmm.' gaze flicking up as if to ask for specification but in reality to gauge his reaction. It prompts Robertson into prattling on:  
"Not just _anyone_ can keep such a crowd of troublemakers in line. I mean, I don't know about your little band... (he looks him up and down and not in a nice way either) but mine are a bunch of idiots sometimes."  
  
Nick nods noncommittally like the good little Detective he is and keeps his real thoughts to himself.  
  
_Blerrgh! Disdain and false camaraderie in_ one _sentence? Creepy!_  
  
The insinuation throughout all this is clear: It's no secret that Robertson thinks Renard gives them too much leeway in making their own decisions. Well, the opposite is true. In doing that he raises even the youngest in his Precinct to become capable, self–thinking members of the Force.  
"Okay, can you tell me more?"  
"As Captain you need the guts to make the hard decisions. Not everybody cut out to do it."  
It's obvious by his tone who falls into that category and who doesn't. While he nods along the Grimm wonders, if Robertson would be quite this boisterous if Renard was with them?  
"Yeah, that's good. Maybe a last one?"  
Nick shows a pained smile, giving the very real appearance that he is reluctant but cannot help hanging on to the drangzorn's every word. The other man peers at him closely, dismisses him once again as someone not as imposing as he initially thought, and goes right on.  
"You need a clever mind to weather politics and stuff. Either you're on top... or you're down there with the rest."

>>>

 

By the time lights are dimmed leaving only the stage illuminated, they have all but finished preparations. Wu has talked Sievers into letting Nick be the one to hold the laudatory speech for Renard, Hank has rallied the troops (every cop of South Precinct who's not on shift or held up by an important engagement is on their way to City Hall to pay Renard the honors) and Nick is putting the last lines of his speech together. He's satisfied with how it sounds in his head and although not entirely comfortable with speaking in front of so many people, he knows braving his fear will be worth it in the end.   
  
There will be a number of people this evening getting an award for a variety of good deeds done on duty in different professions. Renard will be one of the last, which is good, because it gives their colleagues time to arrive.  
  
>>>  
  
Finally time has come. Renard has been called onto the stage and just now Sievers is announcing that he – Nick Burkhardt – will be doing the honors. The Grimm's heart is beating in his throat as he rises from his seat and makes his way over to his Captain and Commander. He reigns his nervousness in with an effort, manages an easy smile in face of Renard's barely veiled astonishment and takes the microphone from the older man.   
  
_This is it. If there's ever been a time necessitating high work performance, it's now! I mustn't bugger this up. If I do, I'll not only embarrass myself but my Captain and the whole Precinct as well!_  
  
Curiously it is Captain Robertson's malicious, slightly pitying smile just visible down there in the crowd, that frees Nick from the heebie–jeebies. What a wonderful reminder why he's doing this! That man has dared to degrade their Captain and has dishonored this whole endeavor. That man – the vile, blusterous idiot – has attacked one of their own and he will see what it will get him. Nick has listened to the hurt, the vulnerability so different to Renard's normal dispassionate drawl.... And he's been surprised beyond measure that he's been able to glean as much. For that to happen – even if Robertson hasn't noticed anything – his words must have really hit a sore spot. To learn that strong willed, powerful Sean Renard has insecurities as well.... It has unearthed a protective streak within the Grimm that he hasn't experienced ever before.   
So here he is now and he knows very well why and for whom he's doing it.   
  
One last deep breath – only visible to the zauberbiest standing next to him and tracking his every move – and he starts talking, clear voice carrying easily through the room. Anyone not knowing him would never get an inkling that Nick is anything other than comfortable with talking in front of so many people.  
  
“Good evening, Ladies and Gentlemen. As you've heard, I am one of the Detectives serving under command of Captain Renard. As you may know, the winner of this award is chosen by the members of Portland Police Force. By equal vote of _every_ member on the Force, which is why we thought it fitting that one of our own should tell you why this man deserves being honored for his deeds on duty."  
A moments pause to gather himself.   
"Captain Renard has been chosen for the way he is leading us, working with us and supporting us. He has all the qualities a good superior should have and who better to ask what skills a good Captain would need than his colleague from neighboring Precinct, Captain Robertson.”   
  
While Nick gestures to the man in question and a smatter of polite applause sounds through the room, he thinks that surely Renard must have paled by a shade. Not that Nick can fault him. The zauberbiest Prince is well aware that Robertson would never loose a good word about him and as such can only assume that something horrible will follow.  
Well, Nick is not going to let that happen. Rather the opposite:  
“Captain Robertson – in his unending wisdom – has told me that a Precinct needs to be led with an iron hand. And while he seemed to think that all of his subordinates need to be held on a short leash to keep them out of trouble, Sean Renard does not. It is his goal to guide even the youngest on the Force into becoming capable, self–thinking Officers able to make their own decisions. Make no mistake, though, our Captain is a hard taskmaster and if we _do_ get in trouble, he may instill the fear of God in even the most weathered of us. That is damn scary, I can tell you, but it is also his way of protecting and preparing us for doing our duty. He exacts no higher standards on us that he does on himself. For in our job – as all of you will know – a mistake can mean risking a life, may that be your own, that of a colleague or that of those we have sworn to protect.”   
  
For an instant Nick holds his breath, eyes sweeping over the audience. The guests seem content, Commander Sievers like his decision to let him speak hasn't been a total failure and his fellow Officers... they are all with him, all backing him up. In the end Nick seeks his Captain's gaze. Renard seems to have him figured out for he lets a small measure of emotion bleed into those green orbs. What Nick perceives encourages him to go on.  
  
“Captain Robertson has also cautioned me that you need the guts to make hard decisions. That not everyone is cut out to do that job. He is right in that. This isn't about shift plans or budget meetings, this is about deciding whom to send into a dangerous situation and how to split resources and people in the best way. This is about people with families and loved ones and about making sure that they come home at the end of the day. For Captain Renard this isn't a hard decision at all. And do you know why?”   
  
Low, not always friendly murmurs can be heard, some of them surely thinking that they have an uncaring superior, after all. This isn't the case. Far from it. Nick has done this on purpose. He wants them to pay attention, he wants them to understand! But most of all he wants Renard to know what he means to them.   
...To him.   
Although speaking tothe crowd as a whole, his focus rests solely on his Captain – this message first and foremost one for him and only secondly for the others: “It isn't a hard decision for him because when worst comes to worst he's right there with us! Working alongside of us – all night if need be – fighting alongside of us, having our back when we need him to. And while another man may think that this is about sending pawns across a chessboard or a way to further his own rise within the ranks, Sean Renard is different from that. He supports us through actions even though he isn't a man of many warm words. He is – in accordance to another quality named by our esteemed Captain Robertson – using all his cunning, eloquence and from time to time even his ability to scare the hell out of almost anyone... (friendlier murmurs and one or the other quiet chuckle replace the disquiet from before) to keep our back free while we do our job and to protect us as well as he can. And this, Ladies and Gentlemen, is why we have elected him to receive this award tonight. Thank you!”  
  
Thunderous applause fills City Hall and people even rise from their seats for standing ovations. Others step in from where they have waited by the sidelines, men and women in uniform. Suddenly the room is filled to the brim and people are tipping their caps or saluting or simply nodding to pay their respect.   
  
Sean Renard is shocked by this kind of response, taken off guard and... moved.

 

 _This is.... I have expected many things but not this kind of support. From some of them maybe, but_ all _of them?_

_And Nick. Why has he done this? Gone above and beyond what would be expected of him.... Of them all really. Just to make me feel good? It's been such a long time since anyone has done that. Have they seen that I needed that? Seems they have figured me out, after all. Should I be glad? Or afraid? Are my defenses so abysmal? Is it even important seeing how loyal they are to me?_

 

For once he's not his unflappable self, voice not nearly as controlled as usual when he thanks them all. Not that those who don't know him would have taken up on it, it's still Renard they are talking about. Those under his command, however, familiar with his understated way of showing emotion, spot it at once and take it with appreciation.   
  
As Nick retreats to the background the zauberbiest seeks his gaze deliberately and what the Grimm sees there is so much more than what the man has ever shown in the past. There's gratitude alright but there's also something deeper along with honest to God wonder, if this has all really happened. Nick smiles in face of it – that rueful, genuine little smile which is so typical for him – and dips his head once before leaving the stage and slipping back into the crowd.  
  
Everyone is happy and content with how things have turned out, everyone but a certain drangzorn who seethes inside.   
  
_When Burkhardt, Renard's little guard dog, has come asking those stupid questions, I've known... been_ certain _that tonight would end in humiliation for that arrogant, princely Bastard. Then that trice cursed Grimm has gone and used my words to praise Renard to heaven and degrade me, a Captain, however thinly veiled those remarks may have been! Damn them all! I am not blind. I've seen the looks Sievers and some of the higher ups have thrown me during that speech and they haven't been chummy ones either. That little, cheating....! All my work at ingratiating myself and winning their favor has been for nothing!_  
  
Robertson leaves the room as quickly as possible, barely able to curb the urge to strangle every member of damned South Precinct and one Grimm in particular.   
  
Nick, Hank and Wu, who have come back together as soon as Nick has stepped down from the stage, are sporting triplet smirks as they look at his retreating back.  
“What do you think, should we intercept him to ask how he has liked the speech to which he has contributed so much?”  
Hank's question is rich with malicious glee, but seeing what an asshole Robertson is on daily basis, nobody can fault him.  
“Might be worth a try. Maybe he will combust spontaneously, if he sees Nick again.”  
Nick has that far away look about him like he's imagining exactly that happening, before he visibly shakes himself out of it. With a grin worthy of any self–respecting leprechaun he says: “Nice image but I have a better idea. Why don't we give our Captain some time to face the throng of well–wishers while we rally the troops for a bit of real celebration at Selma's? We'll be taking Renard along, of course. So what do you think?”  
“The temptation of watching Robertson combust is strong, indeed, but your idea has its merits as well.”  
“Such as getting beer and no longer being forced to wear suits?”  
“Hank, your powers at mind reading are truly astonishing.”  
“Well, what can I say, many cops, one idea of fun.”  
  
Snickering the three men set out on their honorable mission, Hank and Wu exchanging one look before suggesting that Nick should be the one to ask the Captain along. They have long seen (and discussed at length) what that obtuse Grimm and zauberbiest Prince still don't have the faintest inkling about.  
  
>>>  
  
While facing the inevitable number of well–wishers (grating on his nerves are politicians and members of high society, not the members of PPD) Sean finds back to his equilibrium. By the time Nick approaches him half an hour later he is usual self. That's not to say that he doesn't secretly appreciate the way Nick's suit hugs his well muscled body or the obvious care he has taken with his attire tonight.   
He doesn't show that, though. Wouldn't do to let him see, would it?  
"Captain, would you like to accompany us to Selma's Bar later? To celebrate among cops... errr, cops from your Precinct instead of cops in general, I mean."  
How is it that Nick can be such a clever, capable man in one moment and blush (adorably) the very next? Renard smirks, zauberbiest almost purring with satisfaction at seeing the Grimm so vulnerable.  
"I might be amendable to that."  
Nick fairly beams, something that is mirrored by a tiny playful spark in the dignified Captain's eyes.  
"Good. There's only one problem...."  
Sean stiffens without meaning to. There's the little boy again, hearing the cruel 'We don't want to take you along.' where in reality there's only one lively, if a little sheepish Detective.  
"You see, you would need to loose your tie and suit jacket somewhere between here and the bar...."  
Sean Renard has never been so relieved in his whole life. And that says a lot considering how many attempts on his life he has survived so far. A lesser man would have huffed a surprised laugh. Sean doesn't but when Nick meets his gaze he perceives a smile that's in little creases around his Captain's eyes and in the corners of his mouth. He will never be an expressive man but right in this moment Nick gets a glimpse of the man within the shell of calm countenance and deliberate distance.  
"Hmm. Difficult but I might manage. What about you? Are you going to loose your tie and suit jacket along the way?"  
  
The Grimm manages what he hasn't: He laughs. It is soft but mirthful, nothing stupid or inane about it. It makes the zauberbiest think, that maybe laughing isn't all that bad. Nick speaking up again pulls him out of his all too sentimental thoughts. He's glad for it. Or so he tells himself.  
"The last time I've been asked this question has been in College and that night I didn't only loose a tie and jacket.... But that's beside the point, so to answer your question: Yes, I will and in an entirely innocent, public friendly way as well."  
"Thank you for assuaging all my worries, Detective", Deadpan that is in reality dry humor is answered by another mischievous smile and a mock chivalrous bow.  
"It's been my pleasure, Sir.“  
  
>>>  
  
Nick is sitting at a table near the back in the crowded pub and waiting for Hank and Drew to return when an all too familiar, velvet voice reaches his ear. Repressing an all too telling shiver of appreciation he turns around to find Renard next to him. Nick gestures for him to sit down at the table and surprisingly enough the zauberbiest follows his invitation.  
"Nick, there's something I've been meaning to ask all evening: Why is it that you have a large band–aid wrapped around your index finger, when there hasn't been one at the beginning of the ceremony?"  
Nick rubs the back of his neck blushing.  
"Uuh, I would rather not say."  
"He's snapped his champagne flute cleanly in half."  
That's Hank stepping up to them, broad grin adorning his face. While Renard cocks his head in silent query Nick mouths a exasperated 'Hank!'. The Afro–American isn't fazed in the least. Placing his hand on his partner's shoulder he goes on as if the Grimm wasn't just glaring daggers at him.  
  
"Nick has accidentally overheard parts of your earlier conversation with Robertson and let's just say, he wasn't happy with him for insinuating that your election has been for any other reason than that you do a damn good job. It was either snapping Robertson's or the glasses' neck. The glass has lost the battle. Pity that, but then again throttling _him_ would have generated so much more paperwork so I guess in the end things turned out okay."  
  
Nick is looking anywhere but at his superior while Renard's own gaze rests solely on the Grimm. His Detective's face is darkly flushed to the very tips of his ears but he remains stubbornly silent. Sean is content to wait. After a few more moments Nick starts squirming ever so slightly and when finally he answers Sean has work hard to keep satisfaction from showing.  
  
"His vile comments just rubbed me the wrong way. It's been a spur of the moment thing."  
"Hmm. As much as giving an impromptu laudatory speech and discrediting Robertson in one go?"  
Nick meets his eyes squarely now and Sean finds himself captivated and surprised by the sudden intensity of his stare.  
"No, Sir, _that_ has been on short notice, not spur of the moment."  
Nothing is left of uncertainty and embarrassment, leaving only a core of steel that speaks to the proud Prince on a level he couldn't have anticipated.  
"And just to pre–empt any misunderstandings, it hasn't happened by chance either. I got what I needed from Robertson while Hank and Drew saw to the rest.” Sean's eyes widen a fraction, only sign of his astonishment.  
"So you let Robertson blunder into this on purpose?"

Renard is certainly amused, the quirk to his lips just a hint of sharkish. It's safe to say that he's enjoyed this little dip at revenge. He regards his Grimm closely, intrigued by this new side of him.  
  
_"Yes!"_ Nick's answer is a low hiss, unexpected and revealing more of his anger on the zauberbiest's behalf than any elaborate words could do. A dangerous gleam lights his gray orbs and is only mellowing now that their gazes stay locked for longer.  
  
It teaches Renard two things:  
N _ever_ underestimate Nick Burkhardt however easy going his manner may be and  _never_ hurt his loved ones...!  
He stops short even before he's fully finished the thought.  
  
_Hurting his loved ones? Nick has defended_ me  _tonight!_  
  
He reviews tonight's events once more and suddenly Nick and his actions appear in a whole new light. Sean inclines his head, angular features set in thought and never breaking eye contact. A rare and genuine smile steels onto his lips as he focusses first on Nick and then on the two partners as a whole.  
"Then I guess I should thank you.... All of you that is", he finishes on a louder note and turns to the group of men and women of his Precinct, who are all assembled here to celebrate with him.  
"I want to thank all of you for your support tonight and in general. I've told Captain Robertson and I will repeat it now: Anyone who thinks leading a Precinct is possible without support of those under your command, doesn't have a clue what this job entails. So, thanks to all of you, next round is on me and now let's have a relaxed evening!"  
This is met with a chorus of cheers and cat calls and with a suspiciously emotional, not to say bright eyed look from their unshakable Captain.  
Renard turns back to Hank and Nick who have in the meantime been joined by Sergeant Wu. He does it half to hide this display of 'weakness' from his other subordinates and half to thank the three of them specifically.  
  
Before he can say something Wu hands him a beer.  
"Here, Sir. The second reward of the day so to speak. For what better reward for a cop is there than a cold beer at the end of a trying day?"  
Sean nods to that.   
"Well spoken. So to well thought out plans and the knowledge that someone has our back."  
They clink their bottles together in a toast and three matching, genuine smiles tell him that his thanks have been well received.  
  
>>>  
  
Late that night when he lies in bed the Prince's thoughts return to a certain Grimm and flinty eyes that have been alight with anger and protectiveness focused solely on his behalf. Now in the sanctuary of his own home he can admit to himself what that uncompromising stare and protective streak have done to him. Arousal has curled low in his belly along with the hitherto unknown desire to... submit to one Nicholas Burkhardt. To let him take charge and to let himself drift in the secure knowledge that the Grimm will catch him should he fall.... Or should he let himself fall.  
  
Normally he would never permit himself such weakness, such a thought even! But what he has glimpsed from the other man when he has spoken of his actions tonight has changed everything. He has seen – for the fraction of a second – devotion shining bright in Nick's eyes. Love even... for a man, whose dark side and even darker history he is aware of. Affection for a man of whom Nick doesn't know if he will ever return it.  
  
The thought doesn't leave him for the rest of the night. He doesn't sleep but at the dawn of another day Sean Renard is sure of at least one thing: He is – in the deepest recesses of his heart and soul – loving him back. The 'biest inside concurs with and at the same time flees from the thought of loving a Grimm but Sean has practiced all his life to control that primal creature waiting just below the surface. By the time he has readied himself for another day, he has persuaded his zauberbiest side that none other than the Grimm is worthy of and equal to their own innate strength and power.  
  
Nick sees him for what he is. He even perceives – and isn't that a thought equally terrifying as it is reassuring – his weaknesses and needs and defends him even now when neither has admitted their feelings. Sean isn't even sure that, as of yet, his Grimm is aware of being thus afflicted but if he possesses anything in bounds it is patience and so he will wait for him to make the first move.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Wheew, this was that. The beginning of what you have seen as an already established relationship in 'Seeing You'. I hope it didn't disappoint. ;D  
> For our dear Captain this was a little trip of self-discovery, unearthing insecurities but also leading him to discover that dominant, protective Nick is something he does enjoy greatly.


End file.
